


My Wolf

by PerserveranceNotLOVE



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, F/M, Forgive Me, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 21:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20785634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerserveranceNotLOVE/pseuds/PerserveranceNotLOVE
Summary: Andruil captured Solas in this rp I'm doing. Here's a glimpse into what happens shortly before his wife and daughter show up to save him.TW: Graphic depictions of violence, injury, insanity, minor non-con





	My Wolf

Footsteps echo in the chamber, but he doesn't have the strength anymore to lift his head and witness what is undoubtedly his captor back to torment him more. A gentle touch pushes up his chin from where it almost touches his chest, bringing his head back up. Her thumb smoothes over one eyelid before both hands let go, allowing him to slump forward once more. 

His eyes jolt open when the first stinging pain hits, the tip of a blade having wedged in his shoulder. The face of the Huntress smiles back at him, a tender warmth present even as she drives the blade further into his flesh, provoking a gasp from his lips. Blood begins slowly spilling onto the robes he wears, stained as they already are. 

Not for the first time, he ruefully ponders her sense of dramatics. That would certainly be the cause of the finery she dressed him in: robes befitting an Evanuris, open at the front to display his pendant on a bare chest and black trousers. She had even used a spell to regrow his hair and made her slaves put it up in the dreads he so preferred in his youth.

A pained grimace crosses his face as the tender look melts into a look of rage, whatever thought that provoked her anger also driving her to grab his hair and yank it upwards, exposing his neck. The sharp movement strains the chains holding him down to the throne in a mockingly confident pose. She rips the blade, crafted of the Void's magic, out of his shoulder and runs it across his throat lightly enough to watch blood well up in droplets. 

"Look at you, such a beautiful work of art," she croons, dropping the blade onto his lap in favor of tracing the wounds across his chest. The touch stings, and would pull a hiss from him if he weren't stubbornly keeping his pain quiet. The quiet enrages her once more, and she wraps her hand around the pendant he wears before yanking it. This does cause him to cry out when the sharp metal wire that she had replaced his leather cord with cuts deeply into the back of his neck. She lets go, standing up straight and allowing him to slump forward once more, chest heaving with the effort of just staying quiet even as sweat stings the criss crossing lines of red.

He feels her take the blade from his lap before telling him in a sing-song voice, "Don't fall asleep yet, my Wolf. We're about to have visitors."

His eyes snap back open (when did he close them?), pure fear reflecting back at her. 

She coos at the sight, "Atisha, emma fen. I'll deal with that pesky Lesser in no time, and then we will have an eternity to play."

She leans forward and lays a gentle kiss on his lips even as she drives the dagger into his chest. She turns as the door begins to open, placing the Wolf out of sight behind her as he gasps for breath.


End file.
